All That's Left
by blackdespair23
Summary: When you lose everything you ever loved, would you still continue on living? A Survivor had asked herself this question so many times, what was even the point! Zoey finds herself thinking the same thing as she emerges as the only Survivor left in their original four. Now will they find solace in each other?Or will the Survivors become drenched in their own despair...?


**Note:** _^^ can't believe this... I actually posted a story! (*o*)_

_Erm... This is not the first ever story I wrote but, it is rather the first ever posted on site, so pls. BE GENTLE with me. I still consider myself a __learning__ rookie . :D Anyhow, read on!_

**Extra Note:** _I kinda updated this since I wasn't really satisfied. Sorry. I tweaked the story a bit ^^"_

**Disclaimer:**_ Don't own L4D nor its characters XD_

* * *

**Left 4 Dead:**

**ALL THAT's LEFT**

A whole year had already passed since the outbreak of the so called "Green Flu Infection". Making more than half the population of the great U.S.A. into frenzied, rage-driven human beings. All of them mindless. All of them turned into mere sick beasts of the persons they once were.

Attacking those uninfected by raging blows and kicks, breaking the skin with their blunt teeth, thus spreading the fatal virus.

Homes were razed.

Families mercilessly destroyed.

Lives ultimately lost.

The number of Infected seemed to grow every single hour. Making their numbers close to a billion. The whole southeastern, eastern and northeastern parts of the U.S. being completely overrun by them. It was said that the infection was contained only in the Americas, but dark rumors say otherwise.

Those living in the Infected parts have already been evacuated or left for dead.

Rescue missions were already cancelled, as the whole U.S. army, or what remains of them, stood ground to defend the remaining safe zones in the country. Thereby abandoning the remaining survivors in the Infected parts to fend for themselves and seek their own way safely to the zones. It was cruel, but absolutely unavoidable.

As the Infection mutated those who have already been Infected, turning them into monsters of high danger levels; kept what remains of the National Security on their toes.

But no one has it worse than the remaining survivors who have to fight for their very lives against a force of sick, mindless and ultimately murderous hordes of Infected and Special Infected.

Wherever you seemed to go, you'd always find one waiting to plunge their waiting nails into your insides.

It seemed as though a Survivor's life made the perfect example for defining the phrase "constant strife".

You always had to run; staying in one place for too long always attracts numerous Infected. It was necessary to find a safe house to hide for a while and replenish the lost energy, or scavenge for whatever was edible or useful that was still in working condition. If the Infected didn't kill you, starvation will.

A Survivor must always use not only one but all of their senses. Being hyper-aware of everything was not a choice anymore. One little mistake can often result to a tragic, horrible death under the wrath of an Infected horde. Or the blundering stride of the Charger. Or the crushing throws of a Tank. The acid spit of a Spitter. Being pinned down and shred to scrapmeat by a Hunter.

There were many ways to die under an Infected's rage.

Everyday seemed like a living nightmare inside a zombie-filled world. Only they weren't zombies, they didn't eat you after they killed you. No. They'd just kill you and sniff out other Survivors.

The Infected were still living. Only now they have been stripped of their humanity and became rage-filled, mindless _things_.

All that's left of the greatness of a once powerful country, were the gun-wielding soldiers who were gripped in fear and apprehension of the Infection.

Their allies in other countries were too busy protecting their own nation to bother sending help. Fear of the Infection was as contagious as the virus itself...

Undoubtedly, the Americas were indeed left for dead.

* * *

**Ripped and Lost**

Zoey bucked and kicked. Trying to loosen Francis's hold on her, as she was slung on the biker's shoulder while her arms tied behind her back. Louis's necktie was gagging her mouth.

The group was currently running from a pack of Hunters, which was very surprising, since when have Hunters ever moved in packs? Their truck had run out of gas minutes ago and all three men were making a wild dash for the Airport. Which was only meters away. But the debris-strewn road and the dark blanket of night didn't really help much on their current situation and it really made navigation on foot much harder, especially for a certain biker who had to restrain a squirming woman on his shoulder. At least there were still a few working lights.

"Goddamn it!" Francis growled , "Would you quit buckin'? I swear I'll throw ya' to those damn bitches!"

Zoey's angry answer was muffled.

"Keep moving!" Bill shouted gruffly from the front, a cigar hanging at the side of his mouth, "I can see the chopper ahead!"

"Oh thank God!" Louis exclaimed in a huff. As the familiar swirl of blades in the air were heard.

Francis snorted, "You try carrying the girl!"

In response, Zoey bucked again, her holster slamming roughly against the biker's cheek.

Francis growled, "Why you little-"

He was caught short when Louis, who was running silently behind him, opened fire.

"Jockeys!" He shouted, and released a flurry of bullets with his assault rifle. Bill joined in by shooting the creeping, gollum-looking Infected with his M-16. During all this, they never stopped running.

If they did, the Hunters would overwhelm them from behind. As they were already crawling on the ruined concrete.

Francis couldn't raise his shotgun as Zoey twisted. The biker cursed under his breath.

The girl was over-reacting just because they left her girlfriend to fend off a horde that comprised 0f the biggest Tank they had yet seen and some nasty Spitters and Chargers.

He had to admire the girl's persistence to go back for her friend, and she had good reason to do so. But why couldn't the girl understand that this was a matter of life or death? Going back now was suicide! Plus their ride to salvation was so near-

A shriek pierced through the air as the group entered the terminal. Bill and Louis stopped their fire. While Francis skidded to a stop behind them

"Mpfff!" Zoey mumbled. She actually stopped squirming much to Francis's relief.

It didn't have to take a whole second for the group to realize that shriek belonged to a Witch...

A Witch that practically parked it's butt directly in front of the door. The **_only_** door that lead towards the runway... where their helicopter was waiting...

The men quickly put off their lights. Even Zoey kept still, she may have even stopped breathing. And what was more strange was that all the Infected that chased them were running off.

"What the...?" Bill mumbled, chewing the butt of his cigar. The Infected have been acting bizarre since last six weeks ago.

It began when the Special Infected started travelling in lethal packs, mostly the Hunters and Spitters, and now they were in fear of Witches. Who as all Survivors know, were definitely passive in the presence of other Infected...

Were they somehow... evolving?

It was a bit dim, but the men could clearly see the Witch. The said Infected didn't seem to notice them as she was wiping her eyes with her extremely sharp and lethal claws that all measure approximately twelve inches long, while her pitiful small hiccupping sobs resounded on the walls.

"What now, General?" Francis hissed sarcastically at Bill, who was enthusiastically chewing on his cigarette.

Bill fingered his trigger, "What else, genius?"

"Fine, somebody distract the bitch and I'll cr0wn her," Francis said confidently. Zoey on the other hand rolled her eyes.

"Guys. Guys!" Louis suddenly said in a hushed whisper.

Both men looked at him, making Zoey face the Witch. She gasped.

"Shhh!" Bill scolded her like a pre-school teacher. Zoey mumbled in a panicking fashion.

"What's your problem girl?" whispered Francis.

Louis suddenly grabbed the biker's arm, making Francis jump, "Jesus, she's looking at us..."

Fear seemed to swallow the whole group as deadly red eyes stared at them with unflinching ferocity. Bill held a breath. He had never seen a Witch behave this way. The group was well outside her "startling" range, so she wouldn't have noticed them. If she was startled they didn't know. She didn't growl nor did she do anything else but stare at them. The Witch had stopped her crying the moment she saw the Survivors. Everything became so eerily frightening as the Witch regarded them in terrible silence.

The whole group was at loss on what to do...

Time flew by so slowly, as the group and the deadly Infected continued to stare at each other.

Then after a few more moments, light suddenly shone through the windows, bathing them all in bright white. The men covered their eyes from the sudden brightness. Blinded and disoriented for a second before a hair-raising shriek pierced through the air, and the four Survivors felt their stomachs sink.

When their vision returned, the Witch was well on her feet, screaming angrily at the chopper outside.

"Those idiots!" Bill couldn't stop his stomach from sinking more. Then, in great speed that Witches were known for, the angry Infected ran, not directly at the group though. But towards the Airport runway...

"Shit!" Francis exclaimed, "She's going for the chopper!"

"Not for long." the veteran of the group growled. "See if you can bust that glass, I'll handle our screaming guest."

Louis was about to open his mouth to argue, but the old man silenced him with a stern look that said 'No more questions, just do it.' Then the old man took off. Zoey saw a glint of a Molotove in his hand before she lost sight of him when Francis started to run again, towards the huge unbroken glass windows of the terminal. If they could shatter that, it would offer them a straight opening towards the runway.

"C'mon put some muscle in it man!" Francis told the analyst, as he pounded on the glass with the butt of his rifle. The biker on the other hand was still carrying a (once-again) squirming Zoey, who tried to get her bindings loose so she can help. She felt so utterly pathetic just hanging there. Literally.

"This isn't as easy as it looks!" Louis grunted as he slammed his gun with all his might on the glass. There wasn't even a scratch!

The biker groaned, "This is why I hate airports. Out of the way!" He gruffly pushed the man and dumped Zoey on the floor. The girl glared at him so malevolently that she could just rival a Witch's stare, her bottom feeling very sore from the impact. Louis on the other hand just sighed and went beside their only female companion while the biker slammed his auto-shotgun with such startling strength and in such a frightening pace that it was a wonder the glass didn't crack yet.

A few more raging swings then a crack appeared, "Stubborn bitch, let's see how you suck this up!"

"I always wondered if he has anger issues." Louis cocked an eyebrow at his female friend.

Zoey just shrugged since she couldn't speak with Louis's tie still in her mouth. Then a blood curdling scream made Francis freeze with his gun hanging mid-air, while Louis whispered, "No..."

"Bill!" Zoey screamed, but since her mouth was still bounded, it came out as an incoherent "Brieewl"

Francis seemed to be shocked out of his wits. _Was-? No way... The old frog couldn't be-?_

"Francis!"

The biker head snapped up at Louis's yell. And it was a mistake as brown eyes locked with vibrant red. He felt as if all his blood went scrambling at his head.

"Jeez!" Francis yelled and deftly stepped back from the cracked glass. Pointing his shotgun at the Witch who was leering on the other side... Leering?

Louis had already freed Zoey from her bindings and both were as frozen as their biker companion at the Witch on the other side of the glass. Half the Witch's face was burnt. Ever so suddenly the Infected brought her hand along the glass. Leaving a gruesome trail of fresh blood, there was even a piece of torn cloth sticking on one of her claws.

Then group immediately recognized the little army logo. At their shock, the Witch smiled even more, as if she was taunting them. Zoey and Louis were horrified and, well, scared shitless by the Witch's new antagonistic behavior. Francis on the other hand didn't have time to be surprised as he felt his patience line snap.

"You motherfucking bitch!" Screamed the biker. And he mindlessly shot at the glass. Making a decent hole. But his shot had missed the Witch, who dodged just in time. Francis was about to shoot again when the glass shattered entirely, hitting his left eye rendering him vulnerably open. The Witch was without mercy, as she sent all her ten claws within the biker's torso.

"B-Bitch" Francis gurgled as the Infected sent his insides spraying everywhere.

"FRANCIS!" Zoey screamed, about to open fire at the Infected who killed her two companions, but Louis had reeled her away from the gruesome scene.

"We have to RUN!" The analyst told her and without giving the girl time to reply or argue. He dragged her with him as he ran. The chopper was insight, all they had to do now was make a wild dash towards it before that homicidal Witch on steroids caught them.

Zoey could still here the sound of ripping flesh and cracking bones as they succeeded in running outside. What the hell was happening?! Witches were supposed to run away if they'd already killed one survivor... At least that's what Bill told her. Now she was seriously in doubt about everything the old man had drilled them on about the Infected. How could a Witch be so... cunning? The Infected were supposed to be single-minded killers, not _this__._ It made no sense. None!

Unless... Their human intelligence was in a way... returning?

Swirling blades in the air caught her attention, when raised her head a black helicopter was descending slowly. She could see the outline of the pilot, while his companion opened the cabin door and deftly threw down a rope ladder.

"HURRY!" the man yelled.

"Go!" Louis held the ladder in place as Zoey shinned up. The roar of the wind was so loud in her ears that she couldn't think. Halfway up, she glanced at the man and noticed under the gale of air that he was turning pale.

He voiced out his panic in one word, "WITCH!"

"Josie! Take off! Take off NOW!" the man screamed.

Louis didn't hear the man shouting because of the raging air as the chopper ascended, but when he saw Zoey look over her shoulder in fear. He knew the nightmare was following them. He didn't need to tell the girl to hurry as she was already scrambling up faster. The rope felt slippery under her sweating hands.

"C'mon!" The man yelled at Zoey and he held out a gloved hand. Zoey took it eagerly and clambered up the cabin hold. She was about to help Louis up when the chopper swerved violently, sending her and the man almost out the door. It was fortunate that the man had a lifeline around his waist, that he caught Zoey by her arms. When the chopper settled, Zoey pushed the man away from her and looked down from the door.

She was in time to see a gruesomely severed Louis hurtling down towards black ground, pieces of him scattering mid-air ... The Witch was hanging eerily on the now-bloody rope. Still wearing that malevolent leer on her pale thin face.

Zoey thought she might puke. But her sense of disgust was replaced by a murderous rage. Pulling out her pistols from their respective holsters she opened fired at the Infected. The Witch shrieked angril and covered her head, effectively letting the rope, thus doubling backwards as she fell. Oddly enough, the Infected screamed a very human sound as she fell towards her death, while her arms were flailing helplessly.

Not that Zoey noticed.

As she was suddenly hit by the realization that she had hit her goal. She was getting out of the infected zones and off to safety! She had survived! Heavy sobs wracked her body as she slumped against the cold corner of the chopper. She let her pistol slide away from her as she pulled her knees towards her chest and just sobbed in her arms.

Why did this always happen to her?!

Life was cruel, why did it always have to take away the people she became so close with? First they had to take away her parents. Then her friends. Then her lovelife. And now the people she spent the past months with, trying to help one another to survive. People who are the very reason why she was still even alive!

Why does she always have to rely on other people to save her? She hated herself for it.

"I'm so sorry... " She whispered as another wave of sobs wrenched her chest.

Zoey cried herself sleep, and did not stir as the man placed a blanket around her pitifully. She didn't even wake up as the landing skids of the helicopter touched down.

Safety at long last.

* * *

Gunshots echoed throughout the alley. The idle Infected that were staggering around aimlessly in the area suddenly sprung actively as if in excited rush, and followed the wake of their frenzied brethren who stormed a long since abandoned condo building, following the steady scent of fresh uninfected blood that streamed through the air and left tentative drops on the filthy floor and blood prints on the vandalized walls.

The target of their frenzy was an injured young woman.

Locks of her jet-black hair escaped from their place and whipped at her face as she ran swiftly through the dark corridors. With only the small torch atop her pistol guiding her way, it was difficult to see farther than a few meters ahead of her.

She had lost her rifle moments before, her favorite jungle machete was lost in a deadly duel even moments before that, and currently she was dangerously running low on ammo. Her deep gash wounds on her ribsides didn't make matters any better, as she struggled to keep firm pressure on it with only a hand to keep precious blood from wasting. There was no sign of a medkit anywhere, and she didn't have the time to stop and snoop for one when a literally angry horde was after her ass. She had to force herself to ignore the excruciatingly painful sensations that wracked her body, specifically her left ribside, chest and legs.

There was no time to stop. No time to slow. No time for a breather. This was a matter of survival or death.

She chose survival. Even if it meant pain.

A staggering Common Infected suddenly bumped her side as she tried to turn in a corridor, she didn't care to know what the thing looked like, but it made her lose momentum a bit and forced her forward, making her abandon her plan. Annoyed, she used the butt of her pistol and slammed the thing's nose into it's skull. The Infected fell backwards into the corridor it emerged from, though the survivor didn't hear the thump of a fall as she sped past it as quickly.

The growls and groans of the horde continued to sound within her ears. Making her grind her teeth and force herself to accelerate despite the pain and the flow of blood from her wound.

'Shit!', she cursed quietly as her torchlight suddenly revealed a thick barricade of steel chairs and large tables, she even saw the outline of a fridge. She would need a raging Tank to smash this for her. Unfortunately, the last Tank in the block was lying somewhere within an alleyway with a jungle machete lodged in it's torn and sliced torso.

She ran into a dead end. Literally.

Panic threatened to overwhelm her mind as she spun around and squinted through the darkness. Trying to find somewhere to escape. All the while the horde's sounds grew louder. She couldn't exactly backtrack down the hall when a horde was overflowing it.

As much as she didn't want to believe it she was trapped.

The safe room was still a good floor away. At least that's what her memory told her.

'I should've drew a map, goddamn it!' she told herself angrily, as it was too painful to speak. The wound at her side was screaming in agony. Making her head fuzzy.

She swerved the light around, looking for some sort of escape, may it be a door, a hole in the wall, or even just a vent above. Seeing none, she grinded her teeth.

In those moments she considered barging into a wall... then she shook her head. Making her more dizzy.

'Fuck it, I risked my life for nothing already... Might as well die without giving up a fight to these suckers,' she decided. Turning off the light from her pistol and placing it back into the leather holster that Zoey gave her.

If Death came, she wouldn't mind.

She had failed to save her mother and younger sister when they were being beaten to death by a group of Infected that entered their hotel room.

She had failed to save a little girl when she was being mauled by a hunter.

She had failed to save so many people that needed her. When she of all people, can kill an Infected with a hand, withstand the punch of a Tank, resist the control of a Jockey, incapacitate a Charger, drag a Smoker by the tongue, make a Spitter kill itself, outclaw a Hunter and even match speed with a Witch. Her complete immunity to the virus was a great weapon as she can get bitten without any effects.

Yet, she had failed to save many lives.

Even her younger brother, the only man she ever trusted, who never failed to bring out a smirk in her even after all the tragic events that happened and has been by her side ever since they were still kids, got killed by a Tank because of her inability to protect anyone.

Maybe it was a good thing that she told the others to leave her behind so that she can search for her brother, even if it was pointless. They would've been killed too.

It seemed that anyone who accompanied her became marked by an inevitable death.

"Fuck..." she cursed with a ragged breath, her voice cracking , the wounds on her side pricked painfully. Tears stared to sting her eyes as she remembered those last painful moments with him.

The all-smiling, trigger-happy goof... his bottom torso crushed by a concrete rock thrown by the Tank. She was distracted by a horde comprising mainly of Hunters and Spitters, a moment later she saw her brother sandwiched between a concrete wall and a concrete rock. His blood splattering the pavement. He still kept smirking at her even as his life slowly faded away.

Her brother. Her bestfriend. The last of her family was dying right in front of her and she couldn't do a damn fuck about it. All her speed, all her strength, her skills, her lethal ability to kill were nothing against Death itself.

_"Live f-for us... will ya'?"_

Those were his last words to her. She knew what it meant... but for what reason? Every day she was driven by the fact that she had to protect her reckless younger brother. That she had to bring them to the Safe Zones, towards safety and a new life...

But now... what good was it to be alive when all the persons she loved were dead?

To her, dying seemed to be a good choice.

At his death she went berserk. Even suicidal, as took on a Tank in hand-to-gigantic-hand combat equipped with nothing but a machete. The Tank landed some painful blows on her, but by the time they were finished, The Tank was beyond recognizable, its grotesque face and meaty torso looked like it made out with the sharp claws of multiple Witches.

Darkness consumed her vision in a brief flash. Blind, she felt for the nearest thing that could be used as a weapon. The loud footsteps and groans grew oh so nearer.

Her hands found something loose among the materials used as a barricade, without hesitation she pulled. A pipe maybe? It was certainly long.

The survivor breathed slowly, trying to focus. It was a mental exercise she always did before they went out to meet a horde. It made her forget all the pain she was feeling and concentrate on her enemies.

'Life giveth, and Life taketh away...' her mind thought on its own as she closed her eyes. Placing all her trust to her sense of touch and hearing.

Groans. Heavy running footsteps. A growl signifying a Hunter was in the group. A cough, a Smoker.

She gripped the pipe in her hands loosely, her muscles tense but ultimately ready for action.

The Infected's haunting song rang in her ears, until she could smell their unpleasing scent. Like unwashed bodies and rotting meat.

'Concentrate...' she reminded herself as her wounds made her unstable for a moment. A few seconds passed.

Then all hell broke loose.

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**Note**:_Okay I've only played L4D for a brief period of time so sorry if there was anything, well, wrong in this fic... I just got so hooked in the game and its plot that I just had to make a story, even if it was a tad inaccurate with things! XD I'll try to finish the next chapter soon . . . . ^.^ Pls drop a review, any advice is appreciated :D_


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